That Williams was set in a most difficult position is obvious. It was one that could only be creditably filled by one highly and exceptionally gifted, both in intellect and spirit. Still more difficult was it so to fill that position that he would appear before an age of wider and sweeter altruistic principles without disfavor in its eyes. Long credits him with the saying: "Show me a negro, and I show you a thief";[224] and Gardner, who enters in his behalf a defence that is in many ways effective, merely says regarding this accusation: "The race to which he belonged was then almost universally despised, and the temptation to curry favor with the whites by denouncing the negroes was too great for him to resist."[225] But it seems to me that something more deserves to be said on the subject. We do not know whether Williams' epigram was a sober opinion or merely one cast off in a fit of irritation, that moment of "haste," which even the Psalmist knew, when he was led to sweep all mankind in under the term of "liar." But, further, if Williams was the deliberate sycophant and racial toady Gardner strives to shelter behind his shield of excuse, how was it that he had not won from the planter party, whose voice reaches us through Long, a more softened if not a more favorable opinion? There must have been some marked independence of spirit about a man who cut himself off thus on the one side and on the other. He was an educated man, placed in a false position; cut off by the narrowmindedness of the educated men around him from the environment for which training and education had fitted him. Had his savage epigram employed the term "slave," instead of "negro," and that was practically what it meant, it could stand as a thought-compelling truth, pointing beyond the slave to the tyrant system that made the slave. Gardner, whose history was published in 1876, was, by class, of the missionaries, and by disposition a liberal, and a conscientious liberal. His estimate of Williams is thoroughly well-intentioned, and not wholly inadequate. It lacks subtlety, rather than sympathy. I cannot help hoping that time will bring to light material by which something may be attempted regarding the personality and character of Francis Williams, nearer what one feels instinctively is the truth than the outline at present holding the field. Francis Williams has been mentioned as the author of the song: "Welcome, welcome, fellow debtor," but on what grounds, beyond tradition, it is not clear. We have, however, a Latin poem which is indubitably his work. It was addressed to General George Haldane, who arrived in Jamaica as Governor, April 17, 1758. It is panegyric, after the fashion of the eighteenth century, that is excessively so, but there are lines in it worth remembering. It is thus inscribed: